"Do you need me to rip off my nails again?"
He closed his eyes, his lips trembling, taking a deep breath. He didn't hear the clicks, nor buzzer so he almost thought her voice was still in his head, driving him insane.
Yet once his eyes opened again, he groaned, seeing her black leather boots laced with red threads, "… Fuck."
"Well, I wouldn't mind… though." Ira raised an eyebrow, the right corner of her lip twitching up, "Looks like you were pent up and made a mess all over my floors. Shame."
He shivered, hearing her deep chuckle, looking away from her as she knelt down to his level.
"I want to be the one who pleases you. Who let's you release all of your pent up need. You're mine, so don’t waste this…"
He hissed as her hands, both human and machine, touched his hand, rubbing over the closed bite wound. He grimaced; she was being so delicate, caressing his broken skin so…
Lovingly.
He pulled his hand back sharply, her nails catching on his skin. He flinched at the sensation, ignored the tiny sparks of pleasure.
That's all he wanted from her. Not affection, not whatever she called 'love'.
Just pain.
Ira froze, her eyes wide and expression unreadable. She reached out her hand again and he whimpered, gulping. The needles that prodded his neck dug in a little and tears fell from his reddened eyes.
He expected her to grab him, to de-glove hand as punishment. Yet she didn't. Her fingers stayed frozen, before slowly curling back in her hand. She moved her hand away, resting it on her knee. Her brow knotted tightly towards the center of her forehead.
He tensed, unsure if it was in fear or anticipation. Yet she remained still, her nostrils flaring but her gaze pensive. He stared back, his eyes swollen, "Are you just he-here to stare? You-you could just mo-molest me."
Her teeth bared, her nostrils flaring, "You'd enjoy that though. Even though I really, really want to punch you, we both know you'd enjoy that too."
He smiled, though it did not reflect in his heavy glare, "Who's fault is that?" He lifted his head, showing off the collar, liquid sloshing in the vials, "I didn't ask to turn into some… freak. Some fucking masochist!"
"You wanted to beat me." She chuckled, her eyes still hot with fury. For someone who did not like repetition, she seemed to enjoy echoing his words back at him, bantering and toying with him.
A giant lion who is also the biggest bitch in the world.
"You wanted me to become a monster, Wrath!" His left hand reached up, nails digging into his cheek, "Yet I never felt so weak! Even my healing is weak!" He looked at his side, his chest, "I have nothing but scars!"
"Stop whining."
"SHUT UP! I don't want to hear it from you! Someone who can get hit by a truck and come out looking hotter than ever!" He paused, repeating that last sentence mentally and scratched his left cheek, cursing himself for complimenting her, "FUCK! You're… driving me crazy… I'm going crazy…"
Ira covered her mouth, her cheeks flushed. She wanted to grab his hair and kiss him deeply while crushing his hands with her boots. Punishment for hurting himself repeatedly without her permission; a reward for admitting that despite everything she had put him through…
He still desired her.
She coughed into her palm, pretending to clear her throat, "You have a point. I have no idea on how strong you are. I doubt you’re any closer to gaining your freedom." She tilted her head, grinning, "Thankfully, we have a way of testing that."
It was Tristan's turn to freeze, his heart being squeezed with icy panic, "I don't want anymore tests…" He moved his hands behind him, crawling backwards as far as he could. His eyes looked past her and to the door, hearing heavy, shambling footsteps and grunts. He heard two doors open next to them, the hinges squealing. He looked back into Ira's eyes, seeing that malicious wide-tooth smile on her face, "Ira, what… what are you planning?"
Ira clicked her tongue, the sudden sound making her beloved stiffen further, his shoulders hunched to his ears, "As much as I adore what you have become, I am not satisfied." She stood up and before he could get away, her steel fingers closed around his thick and matted locks, nearly scalping him with her grip, "You are weak and pathetic. Nothing more than a pretty little whore."
He gripped her arm, trying to rip it away only for her to jerk upwards, her hand threatening to rip off his scalp. He grunted at the pain, sparks firing underneath his hair. He lowered his hands, surrendering to her grip as she dragged him out of his cell.
That damned cell had become his home these past few weeks. Or was it months?
… It didn't matter.
What matter at the moment was the lumbering thuds that vibrated up the bare soles of his feet. The dull pounding came with a loud piercing shriek, nails on the chalkboard.
Or claws against the bare cement walls of the large cell he was being pulled into. He dug his heels in, his teeth clamped together, gritting back and forth as dread emanated from the dark, dank cell.
Whoever-
No.
Whatever was in that neighboring dungeon was large enough to need two of those steel and stone mechanical doors held wide opened. His hands moved up to grab Ira's hand, only for him to yelp as she tugged his head back in warning, his knees bent as she forced him towards whatever was waiting for them, "Ir-Ira! What's in there?!"
Ira smirked, licking her canines as she stepped into the cell, only giving the two guards of whatever it is the barest of nods. The dim lights turned, and yet the shambling creature stayed in the shadows. Tristan could only make out a large humanoid silhouette with his sight. The stench of decay and rot assaulted his senses. It wasn't a strange scent.
It was a scent he knew well from his childhood.
Gangrene mixed with ammonia.
This drugged, hideous, possibly human thing was dying.
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